I used to know that essay by heart. In summer time, the
Great Book, sir, the Book of Nature, is opened for us, spread open by a
divine hand; it were thankless as well as stupid to refuse to study it.
So I studied my garden first, and after that, my fields and woods and
pastures. Great reading in a broken pasture! When I wanted human
companionship--apart from that sweet and gracious influence of her who
was my second mother--I found it in my friends between the covers, who
were always ready to talk or be silent, as my mood inclined. I thought I
did well enough with Shakespeare and Montaigne and the rest; I have
learned now that one living voice, speaking in love and kindness, is
worth them all for 'human nature's daily food.'"

Margaret listened, wondering. Her uncle had seldom said so much about
his own life even to her, his housemate and intimate companion these two
years; while Hugh, without a word, simply from some power of silent
sympathy that lay in him, had drawn out this frank speech a few hours
after their first meeting. She wondered; and then asked herself, why
should she wonder, since she herself felt the same drawing toward her
new-found relative. "This must be what it is like to have a brother!"
she said to herself; and felt her heart quicken with a new sense of
comfort and happiness. "Such a pleasant world!" said Margaret.

CHAPTER V.

A VISION

Hugh Montfort was having a delightful morning. He had been at Fernley
three days now, and already knew every nook and corner on the place.
With his uncle's consent he had appropriated for his own use the little
summer-house, covered with clematis and York and Lancaster roses, that
looked out over the south wall of the garden, and away toward the sea.
Here he had brought his desk (an old one belonging to his father, that
Margaret had found in the garret), and had tacked up a shelf for a few
favorite books; and here he was sitting, on the fairest of June days,
with a volume of Greek plays open before him, considering the landscape,
and enjoying himself thoroughly.

Hugh was no less delighted with his uncle and cousin than they with him.
Always and necessarily a student and observer rather than a man of
action, he felt an instant sympathy with the man and woman of books and
thought. He loved dearly his own family, active, strenuous people,
overflowing with strength and energy; but he often felt himself out of
place among them, and reproached himself with t